Fictional Reality: Deduction
by House Sparrow
Summary: Piper has to babysit Sherlock Holmes, the only person that can truly observe her in return. (No prior reading of the series is necessary.)
1. Chapter 1

As Sherlock Holmes watched John Watson visit his grave, I pondered the situation and reflected upon my previous actions (or, more accurately, lack thereof). Reading John's aura was not necessary; emotional pain was written clearly on his face, in his tone, even the way he carried himself. His grief pierced my heart, and for a moment I regretted not interfering sooner. _I have to trust Sherlock, _I told myself. _The plot will work itself out_. Still, I wished to comfort the poor man, to reveal Sherlock's trick, and I knew that the supposed dead man yearned for the same.

_I hope things work out soon, _I thought as Sherlock turned around. For a moment, I observed a profound sorrow in those pale blue eyes, temporarily revealed from the depths in which this man hid his emotions, depths he himself was hardly aware of. Suddenly, I was struck, not by the beauty of Benedict Cumberbatch in this secret fangirl's favorite role of his, not by the moment of emotion rarely seen in Sherlock Holmes, but by confusion.

As if in a real-life stop-motion film, I watched those sorrow-filled eyes close off as they turned towards the tree I was leaning against less than ten feet away. I snapped out of my reverie as I noticed that those eyes were searching, calculating, deducing, and _looking directly at me. _I couldn't believe it. Those who can even _sense_ my presence are few and far between, and never before had I come across someone who could actually see me when I wasn't fully materialized.

"Is there any reason you have been watching me." It was a statement, a cold musing to himself. As I struggled to compose myself, I could see that he was beginning one of his games, that I had become a new puzzle to combat his boredom. "You have been following me since I met John, but you have appeared to be stalking just me."

All I could sputter out was, "You . . . can see me." _Has he really noticed me this entire time? I should have been reading his aura._

"Obvious. There is no reason that I shouldn't be able to see you."

"You don't understand. I'm not fully materialized in this dimension!"

He raised one eyebrow ever so slightly. "Clearly you are nothing but a delusional stalker." Then I noticed the way he was watching me. He could clearly see me, but he wasn't looking directly at me.

"Do you by any chance see a glow around me?" I said cautiously.

"Am I not supposed to see that either?" he responded sarcastically.

"You can't possibly—" I began, but just then my crystal pendant started to glow, and that nagging feeling to check on a dangerously unbalanced dimension started to build in my gut. _Really? Now?_

"I have to go. I'll be back to explain later!" Then I was in another dimension, cutting the game short, leaving behind a man both puzzled and puzzling.

・ ・ ・

Sherlock Holmes was lying on a motel bed, disinterestedly reading a newspaper. I knocked twice on the door. "May I come in?"

He responded without so much as looking up. "In polite society one knocks _before_ entering."

"I can't magically appear outside. I do try to keep a low profile."

He glanced up at me and held up his index finger. "First, I don't believe in magic; and second," another finger flew up, "keeping a low profile while covered in dirt, sweat, and blood tends to be difficult. Take a shower. You smell." He wrinkled his nose and returned to his paper.

"I rushed a large battle to get here," I muttered pathetically as I opened the bathroom door.

・ ・ ・

I walked out of the bathroom clean and ready to take control of the situation. I found Sherlock pacing irritably, the newspaper now taken apart and strewn about the small room.

"You seem bored," I noted nonchalantly.

"You're clothes are different. You brought none with you, and you never left the bathroom, that door is the only exit." He continued to pace.

"Magic."

"Magic does not exist."

"It's a simpler explanation." He ignored this.

"The only possible explanation is that you are a figment of my imagination."

"It's 6:23. We need to go," I said, ignoring the imagination comment. I've heard it plenty of times before.

"That proves it!" Sherlock exclaimed. "You aren't wearing a watch, and you can't see the clock from there."

I sighed. "You need to check out. Now. We're behind schedule."

Ignoring me, the consulting detective picked up a piece of newspaper and began to fold it into an origami crane. I rolled my eyes. "Ignoring me won't do anything but set us even further behind schedule." He continued to pointedly ignore me. _He's like a child, _I mused.

"Mr. Holmes—"

"There is no reason for a figment of my imagination to address me formally."

"I'm not—"

"If you insist on hanging around, call me Sherlock."

It was almost 6:30 p.m. If I wanted to time this right, we had to leave now. "Fine," I said. I strode forward, grabbed his shoulder, and took us to 221B.

I stared at my hands for a moment, shocked at what I saw. _You have to be kidding me. _Then I released Sherlock and focused on the situation at hand.

We walked into the flat to find Molly and John in the sitting area, quietly drinking tea. I rolled my eyes. _Brits and their tea! _Molly saw us first. She shrieked and dropped her cup. As it shattered on the floor, John abruptly stood up and preceded to stare, tea pouring onto the floor as the cup slipped from his fingers and joined its friend. I silently headed to the kitchen to grab some towels. Sherlock calmly took a seat, unfazed by teleportation. I had finished cleaning up before a single word was spoken.

"You're alive," John stated.

"Why would you do that to us?" Molly whispered into the new cup of tea I had given her. Sherlock didn't have a chance to answer, however, as Mrs. Hudson came in with Mycroft and Lestrade, who simply stared as the landlady yelped. Ever unfazed, Mycroft walked towards his brother and shook his hand.

"It's nice to see you alive and well, Sherlock." He turned to look at me. "I see you have met Piper."

"Is that her name?" Sherlock replied. Mycroft looked at me quizzically.

"It never came up." I shrugged. "But this reunion isn't about me. Why don't you tell Sherlock the good news?"

At this point, Lestrade had composed himself. "So that's why you called us here," The officer said.

"She told you to come here, too?" Molly asked.

Mycroft turned to Sherlock, a smile playing on his lips. "You're name has been cleared."

"This young woman provided key evidence in proving your innocence over the past few days," Lestrade finished. "It goes public tomorrow."

"No," Sherlock said coldly. "I didn't go into hiding to escape infamy."

"Then why _did_ you leave?" John asked.

"I was bored. I realized when Moriarty died that there was no longer anyone intelligent enough to entertain me."

"Liar," I accused. Everyone just stared at me. "Well, someone had to say it," I said nonchalantly. "Are you going to tell them, or should I?" I asked Sherlock. He remained silent. "Moriarty threatened to have you all killed if Sherlock lived."

Everyone still stared. "Young lady, I am curious as to how you know so much," Mycroft said, breaking the silence.

"That's not really the point. The point is that Sherlock is back and everyone's safety is no longer a problem."

"So you're a stalker with connections," Sherlock said. _I thought I was a figment of his imagination._

"First of all, I'm only a stalker depending on your definition," I countered. "And second, you insult me. I do have connections, but this situation both only requires and only allows my personal interference."

"And how do you plan on protecting everyone?" Mycroft asked accusingly.

I smiled. "I have my ways."

"Would you care to share your methods with us?" He really was trying to stump me.

"Oh, leave her alone, Mycroft," Sherlock said. I glanced over in surprise to find him staring intently at me in return. He turned to his brother. "She can be trusted," he said simply. The matter was settled with those four words.

・ ・ ・

"Are you alright, dearie?" Mrs. Hudson asked me. Mycroft, Molly, and Lestrade had left. I was staring into the glass of milk Mrs. Hudson had given me earlier. Sherlock was aimlessly plucking at his violin, and John was attempting to make small talk, but I was too distracted by the events of the day to really pay attention. "I'll call a cab for you," Mrs. Hudson continued.

"That won't be necessary," Sherlock said without looking up. _He really needs to learn to look at people when he's talking to them. _"She obviously has no place to stay."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know," Mrs. Hudson apologized.

"She could stay in the flat downstairs," John offered.

"221C needs to be fixed up first," she replied.

"I couldn't possibly do that anyway," I said. "I have no source of income."

"The obvious solution is for Piper to stay in 221B with us," Sherlock stated matter-of-factly. "She has no money, and if she intends to to protect us, she needs to stay close."

"I refuse to let this young lady stay overnight with two men!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed. _Could everyone please stop calling me 'young lady'? Wait, why am I an exception to her usual 'modern' perspective?_

"I understand," I said tiredly. I looked up at her. "There is no need for me to go against societal morals. I'll figure something out; I always do." I stood up. "I should get going," I said, stifling a yawn. It had been a long day for me, and it was past 11:00. Mrs. Hudson bore a worried expression.

"These boys are very well-mannered," Mrs. Hudson said hesitantly. "Well, they're gentlemen at least," she corrected herself. "I'm sure they could behave for one night," she said sternly, addressing me but looking at John and Sherlock.

"Thank you so much!" I said joyously. I hadn't actually had a real place to stay in about two months.

"I'll bring up an extra blanket and pillow for you."


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up before dawn, as usual. Reluctantly, I left the comfy chair, folded the blanket Mrs. Hudson had given me, and lay it on the seat with the borrowed pillow on top. I then began to stretch, commencing my morning exercises.

John opened his door two and a half hours later, just as I threw a high wheel kick in that direction. He froze, eyes wide in surprise. I snapped my leg back.

"Good morning," I said, smiling.

"Good morning," he replied, composing himself. It wasn't the worst thing he had woken up to in this place.

I walked into the kitchen. "What do you want for breakfast?" I asked, searching Sherlock's personal laboratory for something edible.

"I'm just going to have a cup of tea," he said.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day." I insisted, partly out of concern, but mostly because I didn't want to be the only one eating.

"I'll eat when Sherlock wakes up."

"He's been up."

"Where is he?"

"Hasn't left his room yet. I don't think he actually slept at all." I finally found what I needed to make omelets amidst chemicals and body parts.

"He wasn't throwing things in there or something, was he?"

"No, he hasn't gotten out of bed."

"How do you know he's awake?"

"Breathing patterns."

"You can hear that?"

"Yup." After I slid our omelets onto three plates, I knocked on Sherlock's door. "Breakfast is ready."

"Not hungry."

"If you don't eat, I won't explain."

・ ・ ・

I felt the consulting detective's eyes watching me as I washed the dishes. I knew he was trying to decipher my aura. "Sherlock, reading people's auras is not polite."

"You're referring to the glow around you," he said, still observing.

"Yes. That is a projection of my soul, and I would prefer if you refrained from analyzing it."

"I don't see a glow," John said.

I dried my hands and turned to look at Sherlock. I searched _his_ aura and analyzed his ability to see mine. _Oh! He can't choose whether or not he can see my aura. _I tilted my head, reading further, then smiled. _This should be easily fixed._ "It looks like I can make it so that you can choose to see my aura, like I can choose to see yours. Would you like me to do this?"

"It's up to you," he responded coolly.

"Thank you." I stepped toward him and placed two fingers on each of his temples. "Keep still," I commanded, closing my eyes. I explored his mind, soon finding the hidden area that contained his ability. Applying some power, which must have shown (John gasped as I did so), I opened this area to Sherlock's consciousness. I quickly retreated from his mind, opened my eyes, and stepped back. I was about to explain to Sherlock how to control this ability, but he had already figured it out.

"Intriguing," he said. He stopped looking at my aura. _Thank goodness!_ "Now," he continued, hardly containing his eagerness. "you promised an explanation."

"Yes, I did." I sat back at the table, removing my pendant and placing it in front of me. I passed my hand over the crystal sphere, causing it to glow. "This crystal is a physical manifestation of my power," I began. "It will allow me to project my thoughts and provide a visual."

A bubble appeared over the crystal, like a hologram. "This is the universe." Many bubbles appeared within the larger one. "The universe consists of a continuously increasing number of dimensions. They all come from the Creator Dimension, where I was born and raised." Everything disappeared, then another bubble appeared, other bubbles emerging from within. "When someone in that dimension creates a piece of fiction that they are emotionally involved in, the fiction becomes reality in a new dimension." The bubbles disappeared. A new bubble appeared in its stead. "There is a force called the Universal Balance. The Universal Balance is affected by the Dimensional Balances." The battle I was in the previous day appeared within the bubble. Slowly, the bubble turned dark and murky. The rest of the bubbles appeared again, surrounded by the large bubble. The murkiness spread. "When a Dimensional Balance is upset, the other dimensions can become corrupted." The murkiness spread faster and became darker until the main bubble was entirely corrupted. "Wars and chaos ensue. Eventually," the bubble popped. "everything will cease to exist. My dimension, yours, and all of the rest will disappear forever."

The original corrupted bubble returned. In it, we could see me on the battlefield. The murkiness didn't appear this time. "That's where I was yesterday." Thousands of orcs swarmed around my image. I shuddered at the memory. _People really need to stop writing stories like that._ "I am the Guardian of the Universal Balance. I exist to prevent the end of reality."

・ ・ ・

They both stared at me, John with a look of 'what did we get into this time' and Sherlock with an understanding as pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

"So, er, why are you here?" John asked me. "If our dimension is unbalanced, shouldn't you be stopping the wars?"

"We are fiction, John," Sherlock explained. "Fiction revolves around main characters. The balance revolves around us." He smirked, his ego improved with the idea of if not being the center of the universe, at least being the center of the dimension.

"Don't be pretentious," John scolded his flatmate.

"Actually," I said. "he's right. You're from a show called _Sherlock_, which starts about when you two meet; thus, my being here since then."

"You watched the show," Sherlock stated, his smirk growing.

"I did, but it's not like I've been here for fun. I've been monitoring the Dimensional Balance. It's iffy, but not wavering. I just planned on keeping an eye on things, not interfering until necessary."

"But bringing Sherlock back was necessary," John said, trying to play detective.

"No," the consulting detective answered for me. "She's here because I can see her, and that might have caused the natural course of events to change."

I sighed. "For not believing in magic, you catch on quickly."

"A fangirl like you should have expected as much," he replied.

I blushed. "Just because I enjoyed the show doesn't mean I can't be professional," I retorted. "I've been doing this for almost five years now. I can fulfill my duty without whipping out an autograph book," I snapped. The two men looked at each other, surprised by my outburst. I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It's just, what I do isn't easy. I hardly see my family, I rarely stay in one place for long, and the things I've done—" I drew in a ragged breath, trying to hold back tears. _Stupid Sherlock._ "Let's just say I'm not the same person as I was when I turned eighteen. I've seen too much for that, and I don't like being reminded of the way things were before. This is who I am now. I don't watch or read fiction, and I don't live it either. I monitor it."

I walked over to the window. "I'll be back later. I have some things I need to think about." Then I was outside and in the air, the breeze under my sparrow-wings clearing my head and allowing me to think about this new situation.


	3. Chapter 3

I soared over the streets of London, allowing myself to be a tourist for a moment as I cleared my mind. I was more familiar with Victorian London, there being so many stories about it. My adventures with the Doctor had yet to allow me to become familiar with this modern London, from the time of my teenage years. I needed to know this environment if I intended to protect Sherlock and his friends.

_Sherlock, _I sighed inwardly. I never expected things to turn out like this. I chastised myself again for not reading Sherlock's aura from the start. If I did, this could have been avoided. _No, _I reminded myself. _You can't escape destiny. _Sure, others could. Fiction doesn't always follow the intended plot, either naturally, or by my own interference. _But I can't._

I thought back to my eighteenth birthday, to waking up alone in a frozen wasteland. I never even got to say goodbye to my family; it took months to control inter-dimensional travel and return to explain.

I thought about my pendant, now a golden feather hidden in my down. It always glowed when I was needed, and an urge to leave built up in my gut until ignoring my duty was unbearable; I had tried to ignore it once, to stay and help where I was, but the discomfort developed into near-debilitating pain, forcing me to wrap things up hastily and meet my new challenge.

_And now . . . ._ Now destiny had found me once again. I had thought that I was called to this dimension to monitor the balance, to ensure that the plot was followed. But now I wasn't so sure. I landed on a rooftop and preened my feathers. I was too lost in thought to continue flying without hitting something. I allowed myself to think back to the previous evening. To bringing Sherlock to 221B. I pictured my hands on his shoulders. I remembered our auras intertwining, swirling together, blending into one. I sighed my best bird-sigh. I had seen this kind of thing before. Quite often, actually. Whenever I performed my little side-service of bringing soul mates together, I had watched as their auras joined.

I had almost taken for granted that I was destined to be an old maid. I had begun to become comfortable with the idea even before I turned eighteen. I had never dated before, and the realization of my obligations led me to think that I never would mingle. I had long ago given up the dream of motherhood, unsure if I was even capable of becoming pregnant, let alone have a baby survive to full term. I had long ago given up dreams of marriage, never being in one place for long. I settled for bringing other couples together, for making others happy.

Being a fangirl, I had once dreamed of ending up with a character. But it was impossible. I never expected to belong with a main character, perhaps with a side character or someone who existed in the dimension but not the fiction. Even those dreams had died in under two years.

But now destiny had found me again. And this time, the universe gave me no clues as to what to do. I was alone. But I could change that. _But should I change it? _Would allowing this to happen change the balance of the dimension? Would Sherlock Holmes even be capable of truly loving? If he was, could I do him justice? One didn't need to end up with their soul mate to be happy. If he found someone else, it might be better to let them be together. He wouldn't have to deal with my obligations showing up unexpected. I had to leave with little notice, with little idea about how long I could be gone.

And I was immortal. Would I have to watch him die? Knowing that I had to watch my friends and family age and die was enough, was I willing to take the chance to fall in love, if only to watch him wither away, too? I couldn't even be there for him in his old age. I could spend his last moments saving the life of another.

And gosh darnit, this was Sherlock Holmes! What would he do if, _when_, he deciphered my aura and knew that we were soul mates? Would he feel obligated to love me? That wouldn't be right.

Chatter from the street below interrupted my thoughts.

". . . Sherlock Holmes . . . ."

". . . alive . . . ."

I had forgotten that the news report came out today! I decided that I needed to follow my usual plan: let things unfold and deal with a problem when one turns up. I hurried toward the flat, obligation again dictating my actions.


	4. Chapter 4

As I approached Mrs. Hudson's building, I saw members of the press (and fans) swarming like flies to a carcass. Actually, I had need to turn into a fly. Too many people were staring at 221B's windows for a sparrow to just casually swoop in. I landed in a tree a block away and finished my journey as a lowly fly, sneaking through a window that John and Sherlock had left cracked open for me. _In a way, we are all like flies, _I mused.

Turning back into human form, grateful that the men had sense enough to draw the curtains, I immediately set forth apologizing. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have stormed out. I promised to help, but even though the news about Sherlock went public today, I left. I shouldn't have left. I was selfish. Please forgive me."

"Please, calm down," John insisted. "It's okay. We forgive you. No one is expected to keep a cool head around Sherlock." He was flustered now, unsure of how to handle my shame of failure. _He can't understand. _I _shouldn't get like this just because of some childish man. I was irresponsible. _Sherlock, on the other hand, seemed amused. I wanted to punch him.

Instead, I chose to ignore him. "Thank you. I'll try to be better," I told John. "But now, how are you going to handle the press?"

"I'm not sure yet," John replied. "I would suggest a small press conference, or at least an interview, but this is Sherlock Holmes."

I nodded, understanding completely. "So, you'll use your blog."

"That seems to be the best way. But how do I explain you?"

"Simple. You don't," Sherlock interjected. I had been starting to wonder if he even cared.

"Should I hide? I could take on the form of a cat and you could say that you got a pet. I've had to do that before."

"No," Sherlock replied. "People will figure out that a girl is with us quickly enough."

John sighed. "You really don't care about your public image."

"I owe explanations to no one." I just counted his earlier comment as a win. It seemed like I was part of the team. That always helped.

・ ・ ・

Half an hour later, John finished his latest blog entry. With minimal assistance from myself, the piece came out as carefully worded and manipulative of the public as war-time propaganda.

"Bored," Sherlock muttered. He had finished the morning paper while I was out and had resorted to plucking at his violin. It wasn't even noon yet.

"Let's stroll through town," he said, sitting up.

"No," John commanded. "Not today. If you get a case today, it will be brought to you. We aren't going outside with all that press."

Ignoring his friend, Sherlock walked toward the door, grabbing his coat. I agreed with John, today we needed to lay low. _But how does one entertain Sherlock Holmes? _I was probably one of only a handful of people that could prove a formidable opponent for him at a traditional board or card game, but I didn't think he would go for that at the moment. He needed a case.

Sherlock was starting down the stairs, and I only had one idea. "How about a road trip?" They both turned to look at me.

"Piper, we have to stay here," John said.

I smiled. "No, we just can't go out there."


End file.
